Worst Fear
by Sorceress Jade
Summary: Justin Finch-Fletchley and Pansy Parkinson are Auror's in training for the biggest war since the last biggest war. Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom surprise their classmates, and general wizarding life in wartimes ensues.
1. Chance Encounter

Worst Fear…  
  
Favorite Childhood Toy…  
  
Sexual Orientation…  
  
Preferred Style of Underclothes…  
  
Justin quilled his answers into the form as neatly as he could manage. It was a bit bothersome to need to use the loo so desperately, but there wasn't one in sight. He could only hope he'd find one on the other side of the door there. That was, if they didn't start testing right off. He couldn't help wondering if they could have made the questionnaire just a bit longer. Not enough of it was pointless after all.  
  
He was seated in Auror Headquarters, in a stuffy foyer room with a gum popping young secretary that had to be addressed three times before she'd look up. It was a bit warm in the little room, despite the icy chill of January outside, and the seats seemed to have been engineered to be uncomfortable. Justin Finch-Fletchley was18 and had graduated from Hogwarts over the summer. In the months following that sorrowful parting with the first home he'd found in the wizarding world, Justin had wracked his brain to decide what to do with himself. He'd not the schooling to succeed in the Muggle world, although it hadn't seemed an option since around fifth year anyhow. Over the years, he'd gradually lost touch with the world and state in which his family lived. They could hardly communicate any longer, although he still loved them dearly.  
  
He'd tried an internship at Ollivander's. It had seemed like an interesting career choice at the time, however after nearly causing the shop to burn up two or three times, due to grossly miss-guided wand selection, it had become apparent that wands were not his forte. His parents were now forking the bill for his small one room flat down Abnorm Alley. And it was his duty to find something to support himself; he couldn't ask them to do so for him any longer.  
  
So when the call had come for Auror's to back the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Justin had felt it was his best choice. He'd never considered himself the military type, but after participating in Harry Potter's DADA club for 3 years he did feel he was a bit more apt then the next fellow for the job. Or so he hoped.  
  
He was just flipping to the final parchment of the lengthy document when he heard a disgusted huff nearby. A fluty voice he quite recognized, but couldn't quite place tittered over to him.  
  
"Well, I /never/ thought I'd see a /Hufflepuff/ Auror. Did you lose your way looking for the market Finch-Fletchley? It /is/ Finch-Fletchley isn't it, or are you MacMillan? All of you Hufflepuffs always looked the same to me." Eyebrows shooting skyward in surprise, Justin looked toward the source of these unwarranted insults. Pansy Parkinson was just taking a seat a few chairs down. Maturity had been good to her. Pansy hadn't ever been an ugly girl, but she'd been rather unattractive most of her years at Hogwarts. Then again, he never much paid attention to most of the Slytherin girls, or in particular Malfoy's lot of friends. They just hadn't been worth his time. But here before him was a grown up Pansy, upturned button nose and all. It sort of gave one a sense that she was always looking down her nose at them, but then again he assumed she just might be.  
  
"Hullo Pansy," He replied to her as courteously as possible under the circumstances, only just then something occurred to him. With a puzzled, and somewhat suspicious expression, although he hated to judge, he cautioned, "Fancy meeting you /here/…"  
  
If it was possible Pansy turned her nose up to him even more. Crossing her legs, smooth olive skin peeking out from the flap of her robes, which Justin's adolescent eyes couldn't miss noticing, she parsed her lips before retorting. "You /know/ Finch-Fletchley, Slytherin doesn't automatically mean ultimately evil and a follower of the Dark Lord. You ought to have a pit of compassion really. I mean, I /did/ receive DADA marks in the top five of our class, second in Slytherin."  
  
She diverted her eyes to her own form and began to fill it out in small flowery silver ink. Justin's brown fell. Of course the fact that she'd said just such a thing as he had did not occur to him. Ouch though. She'd said nearly what he was thinking. It was rather unlike him to be offensive to anyone, but somehow it was much harder with Slytherin's. He supposed it was a prejudice, and it was awful, but there it was. And now the guilt set in. Yes, Justin felt guilt at the drop of a hat. He was a very good boy, well raised, simple but golden hearted. Shifting his eyes to stare blankly at his near completed pamphlet he stewed for a moment before stealing himself for an apology.  
  
"Look Pansy. I'm awfully sorry. I'm sure you'll be an excellent Auror. I was only surprised that's all." Her only response to this was a dismissive wave of her hand, without so much as looking up.  
  
Justin finished his parchment-work, doing his best not to stare over at Pansy in regret at his behavior. The silence, aside from the incessant popping from the secretary desk, was oppressive. He passed his form into the young witch at the desk and impatiently awaited a response from behind the door, and a chance to use the men's room.  
  
AN: Critical reviews are gold and I appreciate them greatly. So do tell me, what can I do to improve this story. Does it move to slowly, how might that be fixed if so. All of it. Lets see, to answer a question in the reviews. Harry is not a focal point in this fic. He's off fighting the war, and he will be mentioned here and there, along with other main characters in the books. However Justin and Pansy are my main characters. I intend for Susan to play a roll throughout, and Neville's got a bit of face time as well. I'd love suggestions on who I might throw in that's not a main character. I like Bole, Warrington, Derrick, LeStrange, Macnair, perhaps Nott and Malfoy myself. Of course, all of them'd be on the other side of the war and I don't see much development. Any ideas?? 


	2. Work in Progress

There were six of them in the class. Justin, Pansy, Susan, Leonard, Bradley, and Dillon. Some of them were familiar upper classmen from Hogwarts, some were new faces. A wizard by the name of Zathras, who looked disconcertingly like a feral animal, was their instructor. And to top it all off, Neville Longbottom of all people was his teaching aid.  
  
They were lined up, spitting off hexes at scarecrows. Leonard's was on fire, it seemed to be more accidental than anything else. And Susan had managed to deftly dismember hers thus far and was now working on tearing the straw from the chest. Justin was focused on spells that didn't show much wear on his subject. Of course, it was difficult to be sure they'd been cast correctly, but he'd done them often enough over the years that he felt when they'd gone off properly. Sparing a glance at Pansy beside him, he noticed she'd conjured ethereal ropes to bind her dummy. He could see from the straw poking out of the popping seems that the ropes were constricting. His spare glance had turned into a full out gape as magic flowed from the tip of Pansy's wand. Char marks were becoming apparent now and slips of smoke wafted lazily into the air from the singed fabric. Her form was remarkable, statuesque really. He hadn't seen anything like it aside from Harry's, Malfoy's was nearly as good he supposed. He'd seen the boy curse enough people to now. Before he was aware she'd diverted her attention, Justin was looking down the length of Parkinson's wand and it felt as though a marble had been chucked at his forehead.  
  
The surprise was mostly what unbalanced him. Taking a step back, Justin brought a hand to his bruised brow. He was still a bit shell shocked when Zathras began his lecture in that strange growling voice of his.  
  
"Come off it Finch-Fletchley. A little curse like that and you drop your wand. You'd be dead if this were combat! Do you think a Death Eater is going to let you take a time out to get your boo boos kissed? Attack, Attack!!", demanded the short man with his animal skin hat, yellow and striped and flopping wildly about as he waved his arms in the air. Eye's widening, and jaw gaping Justin looked to his instructor a bit stunned. He'd never been addressed like that by anyone, and coming from this wild looking man it was really rather intimidating. Pansy's lips were curled into a satisfied grin. She nodded to him minutely before returning to her own work. Behind Zathras Justin could see Neville motioning for him to retrieve his wand. Shaking himself out mentally, Justin searched around himself and picked his wand up. His brain was out of whack it seemed, he wasn't sure what had just happened, but Zathras was shouting more of the same thing at him and he couldn't concentrate.  
  
"You know, if this is how you react in a fight, Justin, I'm afraid you'll be dead right off. You mightn't be as well suited for this position as you'd thought." It was Neville's quiet voice beside him that nearly startled him into distraction again. "I mean, it's lovely that you know your defense and all, but it takes a bit much more than that to handle yourself in the face of danger."   
  
Justin turned to face the boy he'd always looked at as the most bumbling and frightened in their year. Sure, he'd matured just as they all had, but he still saw the old Neville who was always losing his frog and what-not. So timid and unassuming. And he still looked it. His voice was softer than Justin remembered, he'd lost the squeakiness. But in that he'd gained some sort of stability that Finch-Fletchley couldn't quite grasp. He looked the same Neville as always, except it seemed to the curly blond Hufflepuff that Longbottom's eyes were weathered beyond their age.  
  
"It's just I," He began to stammer in reply. 'Come on now Justin, you've done practice with surprise attacks; get your wits about you.' He quickly told himself. Only this was a bit different. Truthfully, the so-called surprise attacks in the DA meetings were rather expected. "I'll get there Neville, that's what trainings for right?"  
  
There was silence from the Gryffindor for a moment; Justin wondered if he were perhaps considering his own training, finally he nodded. "Look Justin, we can see you know your spells, what's needed from you now is anticipation, speed, reaction. You can't stand there gaping when someone curses you. It'll be no use to anyone."  
  
He clapped a hand on Justin's shoulder before moving off to speak with Susan Bones, not giving Justin anymore chances at weak protest. He was right, after all. Where had Neville gone to and gotten so grown up and wise? Susan bones too, he'd never seen her cast spells like that. Sure she'd been a good student, but this zeal to, well to destroy, that was new. How'd everything change in so short a time? 


	3. Cocktails with a Slytherin

The air was thick with the many scents of the many pipes of the many witches and wizards who patroned the tavern. The Leaky Cauldron, only the most well known pub in London, or at least in certain circles. Justin was sure there must be other, more obscure, inns to have his drink, only he didn't know where they were. He'd been living in the bustling wizarding community hidden under Lodon's nose for a few months now but hadn't gotten much exposure to be sure. He had this gnawing fear every time he tried to take an alleyway, as though he weren't supposed to be there. Abnorm Alley just happened to be wide enough and short enough that he could see the whole of it from the intersection, more of a cul-de-sac really.  
  
So there he was, sitting in one of the most widely trafficked businesses on Diagon, mostly for its purpose as a portal, trying to keep out of the way and have his own bit of peace and Butterbeer. But of course, it's just when one wants a bit of peace that it becomes utterly scarce.  
  
For the umpteenth time, the door to the pub swung open to allow the passage of new witches and wizards, and with them came the wild winds and chill of the blizzard without. Justin covered his now nearly luke warm Butterbeer to try and preserve what heat was left. When the tumult had died down he lazily lifted it to his lips, it really was a shame he hadn't found a better place to have his drink, but there was no way he was going looking in this storm.  
  
"You know it's impolite to stare." Came the voice that he could now place as Pansy's. He turned in time to see her whisk off her new Ministry issue cloak and plop down on a stool beside him. She wore what he'd come to term as 'street clothes', that apparel suitable for both muggle society and relaxation in the wizarding community. Her silver silk blouse clung close to obviously chill breasts in a way that made it hard to take her greeting in earnest. But she was referring to their training session earlier in the day. "Might like to keep your attention on your own work in the future."  
  
She turned to the barkeep and ordered a hot Honeywine. "Very proper spells you cast today Finch-Fletchley. Terrifying truly. I'd hate to run 'cross you in a dark alley"  
  
He could see a smug grin on her face as she received her drink and took a careful sip. Justin scowled; he'd had a full day of being put down for his non-violent approach to Auring. It was awfully mean-spirited of her to come in and disturb him with more of it and his retort started before he much gave it any consideration. "I suppose we aren't all vicious ki…"  
  
His face reddened as he realized what he'd been about to say. How could he call Pansy a killer, despite what he'd watched her do to a would-be victim? Still releasing the heat of his blush, Justin glared at his drink and left the rest hang in the air. He really didn't feel apt to apologize, although he realized he ought to. She set her drink down with an audible thump and turned to face him straight away. "Something you wanna say to me Finch-Fletchley? Think you're so much better than the rest of us, do you? Just you wait. It's not all daisies and lollipops out there. As soon as we're all working on each other you'll find out! Your not in Hogwarts anymore, there's no Dumbeldore to protect you."  
  
Justin's shoulders drooped as he turned to face her onslaught with a frown. She was fuming, anger consuming her fine features as she glared as him. Her chest rose and fell with the deep breaths she was forced to take from her outburst. This was all too much. Why had she come out of nowhere like this to attack him. Thrice in two the two days they'd spoken. Hadn't he escaped this when he'd graduated? "You don't seem to understand, Pansy, that I don't feel you've got to torture and kill anyone who makes a mistake. They're still people after all."  
  
He knew he was probably reasoning against the unreasonable. He'd been trying all day and no one was getting it. Truthfully, although his gut vehemently fought the notion, he was beginning to wonder if they were all right and he was the one who was mistaken. She raised her hands in a strangulation sort of manner, they were shaking, and her mouth opened long before she could get anything to come out of it. "How daft can you be? They're /not/ still people, don't you get that? They're Death Eater's, they're in-human. Do you really think that once you've cast a few simple spells on them you'll have won? Do you think they'll let it end at that? You don't understand them, Justin. You've got to have been living in a hole for the last year to not get it."  
  
Her hands had migrated to her hips and her expression was wild with emotion. He certainly did feel as though he were living in a hole for, well the last six months at least. He was out of touch, that much was true. But core values were core values, no matter what the current events were. "Listen Pansy. I'm going to deal with what comes in my own way. You can have your pain and torture, but I don't want any part of it. How can we say we're any better than them if we do?"  
  
Her face was still flush as she stared him down. He wasn't sure if she was considering what he'd said or preparing herself for another onslaught. She slowly turned back to the bar and picked up her drink, taking a sip of the warm sweet wine. Justin, figuring the argument for over, ordered himself another Butterbeer. As much as he'd like to simply leave, he wasn't done drinking for the night and had no where else to go for it. Her quiet response a few moments later caught him off guard. "I suppose we'll see once we begin to duel then."  
  
He couldn't help feeling she was trying to be smug, but her voice belied none of that. She hadn't looked up to address him, still sipping at her Honeywine and staring into the mirror behind the bar. He glanced up to see the Justin and Pansy in it pleading with each other in consternation. Grabbing his beer and leaning against the bar to face her he steeled himself for rejection or insult. "Pansy, do you mind if I ask why you joined up?"  
  
She finished her sip and looked over at him, answering in an almost cautious way. "And if I do?"  
  
"Then you aughtn't anwere, eh?" He replied with a measure of resignation. He was only trying his best to get along with a girl that no one would ever expect him to do so with. They were stuck together, at least to some degree, and it was best that co-workers, particularly in their future line of work, could communicate effectively and honestly. "I'm only trying to make conversation right? You've come and joined /me/, not the other way 'round."  
  
Pansy pressed her, he couldn't help noticing, full lips together as her eyes wandered down to her drink for a moment. After a slow blink she replied, "I don't think I shall. At any rate, I thought perhaps you'd be cordial enough to bide my time with for an evening. Perhaps I was wrong."  
  
"Oh good grief, Pansy." Justin replied in exasperation. She had to have the last word didn't she? "Got to paint the world black, have you? Perhaps opening a conversation with sarcasm and insults isn't the best way to begin, eh? You've got me in a spot Pansy, really. I'm trying to be a nice fellow and you make it rather a chore."  
  
It'd been an awfully long time since Justin had spoken to anyone like this. He wasn't quick to anger, nor to retorts. Really he always had thought himself forgiving, and not the sort to upset people in the first place. Of course, he'd done nothing to provoke Harry and that snake way back when. Only, he'd found out that was just a misunderstanding. That didn't remove his phobia of snakes, but it had at least put him and Harry on speaking terms again. And he'd been younger and far more immature back then. The only other namely rudeness he could account for was when he and Hannah had broken off their two year relationship just before Holiday last year. That had really been very ugly. He was still bitter over her affair with Ernie, even if the two had managed to stay together since then. It seemed an odd bit of cruelty that life was playing on him. The only girl he'd cared for running off with his best friend, and them making it work. It'd hurt so bad at the time he thought he'd shrivel up and die, and he'd certainly said a lot of horrible things.  
  
"Don't be crass Finch-Fletchley, I accept your apology." Justin was struck dumb in bewilderment. Had he apologized for anything? "Look we'll need to get along if we don't want to kill each other later on right? Are you hungry at all?"  
  
Justin was still speechless as Pansy ordered a plat of appetizers for the two. Hadn't he just said something to that effect? No he'd only thought it. Top marks for mind reading go to the Slytherin. What would his classmates say to that, cocktails with a Slytherin?  
  
"Are you staying on Diagon or still living with the muggle 'rents?" She continued on blithely with a twinkle in her eye, as though no love had been lost between them. She was teasing of course, he knew. They were only eighteen after all; it wouldn't be such a crime to live with one's parents. But he still felt the pinch of guilt at living /off/ of them when he didn't think it was right and proper in his situation.  
  
"I've got a flat on Abnorm Alley. Small, but it suits me alright." He was trying to convince himself to relax, but couldn't get over the feeling she'd throw something at him the moment he did. "What about you?  
  
"Mmm, I'm staying at an Inn on the outside for a bit. I just sold my place, looking for a new one." She said through a bite of crab-cake. Justin wondered at 'on the outside', did she mean on the muggle side of the community? He'd never have taken Pansy for the type, but then he'd never have pegged her for an Auror either. "Know of anything? Don't seem to have anything cheap on Diagon do they?"  
  
Idle chit chat, they bantered away in a stiff and reserved sort of 'how's the weather' way for an hour and a half or so. It had finally grown late enough that Justin felt comfortable going home to his empty apartment, and suitably buzzed enough to keep warm on the way. The two parted on amicable enough terms, bidding to see each other the next morning at work. It was strange and exciting to call what they were into 'work' and in the end the evening with Pansy had come out alright. She'd turned into what could be the semblance of a real person at least. Although he couldn't be sure, he thought he'd caught a few more insults thrown his way in the course of their conversation. Ah well, he decided it would have to do as he climbed into his pajamas and collapsed into bed. 


	4. Parkinson's Journal

January 15,  
  
Ran into Justin in the pub. Alright, that's not entirely true, I knew he'd be there. He's been there every night since I got in town. He had his hackles up from the very beginning again. I don't know why I thought he'd be any more forgiving than everyone else. Because he's a Hufflepuff perhaps? Of course I noticed how nice he was to girls at Hogwarts. I didn't follow him around noticing of course, but one can't miss it when it's pouring sleet at Hogsmead and he gives his girl his own cloak on top of her own and goes without himself. And then Draco only laughs at sopping wet and half frozen hair on my part. A girl can't help but notice the goofy grin plastered on his face all the time, and how utterly genuine it is. How disgusting.  
  
He was going on about anti-violence all day and in the end we argued about it. It's obvious he hasn't lost anyone yet. Not like the rest of it. When he does, then he'll understand. I only hope he doesn't get an Auror killed because of it first. Stupid git. I hate optimists.   
  
There's nobody for me here and it's desolate. I hate to think I may have latched on to this airhead. I've got to watch myself.  
  
Pansy  
  
AN: If anyone's stopping in to read this, it would be lovely if you'd review for me. I intend to keep writing of course, as it's an exercise for myself, however I'd really love to hear some thoughts, particularly helpful criticism. 


	5. Traitor to Decency

It was a bleak Saturday morning. A week of training had passed thus far with few events of any note. Really, it seemed as though Zathras and Neville were observing the trainees. It was a good idea, in Justin's mind. They had to know their weak spots, and their strong ones of course. He only felt a little jaded that they hadn't done anything new yet. It was mindless and boring. 'Show us what you know.' Simultaneously Justin felt that he knew quite a bit and very little.  
  
He sat at a tiny table in the most windowed corner of his cinder-box apartment. It overlooked the alley below and he could see out onto Diagon. People milled about in the wet falling snow. The clouds were low slung today, so low that they obscured the tops of the taller buildings in the greater part of the city. Before him sat a plate of rubbery eggs and soggy toast, thanx to Justin's D- in his Kitchen Witchery course back at Hogwarts. At the time, he'd been skeptical he'd ever use it. Now, he only wished he'd listened to his professor. Poking the solid yellowy mass with his fork without much interest, Justin propped an elbow on the table and leaned lazily onto it.  
  
How was he going to spend his weekend? This really wasn't the life he'd imagined for himself. Alone, stuffed into a shoe box in the back of Diagon's closet, watching life go by outside without him. Very alone. It was all Justin could do at times not to ruminate on Hannah and what could have been. What was she about now? Maybe training to become a Healer? And then there was Ernie; wherever Hannah was he was there also. No girl, no best friend, no family, only a job that he wasn't precisely sure he wanted that wasn't precisely sure they wanted him either. He didn't even have a telle, nowhere to plug one in, it was ludicrous.  
  
It was too early for a drink and too late to go back to bed. He might, he supposed, go out and look for another pub while it was light, or some semblance thereof, out. Donning his own ministry issue cloak, which was surprisingly warm against the London winter, Justin locked up and headed out into the wet streets. With the Christmas season over, and Valentine's Day a good month off, the shoppers out seemed as lost as Justin felt. Passing by Ollivander's Justin briefly considered popping in to say hullo, only he hadn't left on the best terms and he decided that perhaps the old man wouldn't really like to see him after all. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks, Justin hunched onward.   
  
Fortescue's wasn't far beyond the wand shop and he thought perhaps to stop for a hot cocoa. These plans were dashed as well, however when he spotted two people he hadn't intended on seeing for a good 10 years or so. Hannah and Ernie were walking down the alley in his direction. For a moment all Justin could do was stare. She was radiant. As much as anyone else, the years had been good to her. Her golden curls bounced and sparkled with snowflakes as she laughed at something horribly interesting Ernie must have just said. He looked the same as Justin remembered him, rather like a rugby player, very robust and rugged. Justin backed off of Diagon, trying to keep from catching their eye. He ducked behind a buttress, and watched as they obliviously passed and went about their business. Hannah, Justin couldn't help noticing, had grown rather large around the middle portion. He felt as though he'd swallowed a stone as he leaned against the building behind him. She was pregnant.  
  
Justin's eyes felt frozen shut, the wind whipping up the narrow alley he'd backed into was icy cold and wet to boot. Prying them open he trudged down the slope leading further back into the dankness. He really wasn't in the mood for a hot cocoa anymore. Something a bit stronger was in order. His eyes browsed the dingy wooden signs that rocked on their chains above the doorways. At least half of the doors had no sign at all, and nothing looked remotely like a pub. He was stopped before 'Ingot Dungeon' wondering if it were a bank or maybe if he ought to pop in and see if he'd found his prize when someone knocked flat into him.  
  
Books clattered to the frozen ground, and Suzan Bones let out a startled cry. Surprised to have bumped into her in such an unlikely place, Justin stooped to help her gather her things. She looked at him with a face of a doe in headlights. Concerned Justin handed her things over. "Alright there Suzan?"  
  
"Oh, yes, I," She replied, flustered. She shifted her load into a manageable pile, and shuffled her feet, not meeting his eyes at first. "I'm only, it's just, um, studying material you know."  
  
Confused, he glanced at the title of her top book, recognizing it as a dark arts potion manual at once. She'd done nothing but surprise him all week, but this actually seemed a bit more like the Suzan he know. "Well that's an awfully good idea. I suppose that's how you know as many spells of that sort as you do. I'm a bit behind myself, it seems. Do you need a hand at all?"  
  
"Oh no!" She said quickly. "No I can manage on my own, in fact I'm meeting a friend just up the way so I ought to get going actually. I'll see you Monday then."  
  
She pushed past him before he had a chance to reply, glancing over her should as if to be sure he wasn't following. Odd that, he thought, she seemed a bit edgy about his finding her here. As he watched her bustle up the alley, Justin noticed that the sky had begun to grow darker. Night came so early this time of year. Despite the fact that he wanted to find a new haunt, he really didn't think this was the sort of street that would have one to suit him. And truth be told, now that porch lights were clicking on, where they were even used in this part of town, he didn't much want to be hanging about here. Slowly he trudged back out to Diagon and took his time wending his way home. He'd have a long evening of nothing to do ahead of him. Perhaps Susan really had the right idea, a bit of reading to pass the time couldn't hurt.  
  
After mounting the winding staircase to his apartment, Justin raised his wand to unlock the door but found, to his horror, that it was already ajar. Sure that he'd tightly shut up before he'd gone out, Justin kicked the door open slowly, wand at the ready. What would anyone want with his apartment. It wasn't as though he had anything of value in the first place. But they'd taken everything anyhow it seemed. Indeed, he'd been burgled. All of his bedding was gone, his closet was empty of even the hangars, they'd even taken the chairs that were part of the 'furnished' apartment décor (the table and bed were nailed down). The only thing left were his personally papers, scattered about the floor. Letters from his mum with muddy footprints on them, his little sisters drawings ripped in two.  
  
He was on his knees without realizing it, two scraps of binder paper with a childish drawing of Justin slaying a dragon in each hand. Hot tears burned his frozen cheeks as they made their suicide jump to the floor below. What on earth would anyone want with his things. They hadn't been worth anything. And worst of all, how could any human vandalize his most prized possession and leave them for him to mourn like this.  
  
The evening was spent gathering and cleaning and mending what was left of Justin's life through a bit of wandwork. His back pressed against the cold stone wall and the door still wide open. He slept with only his cloak to stave off the night. 


	6. Taste the Rainbow

Some time mid-morning the next day, a grayish ray of sunshine broke through the dissipating storm. It was an unusual display of cheerfulness in the English winter, one that the fitfully sleeping Justin could have just as well done without. The brightness prompted him to pry his eyes open into the blare. For a moment, he couldn't recall why he felt so lousy. Had he gotten pissed the night before? He didn't feel hung over exactly. But he'd fallen asleep slumped against the wall. As his eyes came into focus on the room around him, his memory followed suit.  
  
Frankly, he wished he hadn't awoken at all. One slip of paper still was crumpled in his clutched hand, his hand with wand the only part of the image visible. Lizzy; Merlin how he missed his sister. She was only, what now, seven? Time passed by so quickly when one wasn't there. He'd missed her whole life practically; with no hope for being there the rest of it. Her expression from last holiday, when she'd opened up the chocolate frogs he'd bought for her, danced in his mind. She must have played with them for four hours before she got around to eating them. Mum'd made her keep the cards packed away so her playmates couldn't see them, but he remembered how she'd carry them in her pocket anyhow. Probably get him in loads of trouble if anyone found out, but it was terribly endearing anyhow.   
  
Every joint in the Hufflepuff's body was frozen stiff. It was all he could do to force himself off the floor and stumble to the bed (the only suitable place to sit anymore). And what now? There was no food in the place, no books at all, only damaged letters. He couldn't even get a change of clothes on or take a shower (no towel). All in all it screamed to Justin that life was calling for a stiff drink.  
  
He stumbled out the door, not bothering to lock it behind him this time, down the steps and out toward the Leaky Cauldron. Tom was in high spirits this morning; the sunshine did it for him so he said. Took some convincing of the old fellow to get anything better than Butterbeer this early, but after a few moments it seemed to occur to the barkeep that Justin was serious.  
  
It was running into early afternoon when Pansy chanced in. She wore a lighter cloak of lavender, as the temperature had warmed remarkably since the weather system broke. She seemed to spot Justin instantly, to his chagrin. He'd seen her enter from the muggle street door in the mirror behind the bar. Keeping his head low, he tried to blend. But a haggard, unkempt, and sloppy Hufflepuff was not something that could be easily camouflaged.  
  
"Bit early to be into the hard stuff isn't it Finch-Fletchley. If someone didn't know you were a Hufflepuff they might think you a lush." She had that cheeky goading tone in her voice again and today it grated on Justin's nerves a singing banshee. "Oooh, smells like Leprechaun whisky, I'd have gone for the Potted Rainbow Ale myself if you were in the mood for their flavor."  
  
"Sod off Pansy." Justin growled as she plopped herself onto a stool beside him. Pansy gave him a sideways disbelieving look.  
  
"Now now, don't get snotty with me today Finch-Flethcley," She was using the same tone still. "I simply won't have it, you wouldn't believe the things I've been through today."  
  
She turned to Tom who was standing not far away, polishing glasses and warily watching the interaction unfold. "I'll have a Honeywine, but make it a cool one today please."  
  
Justin slammed down what was left of his own drink and tapped it on the bar for Tom to pour him another. Setting down Pansy's wine, he replied only somewhat timidly. "Nooow there Mr. Finch-Fletchley, I think ya've 'ad 'bout enough t'day doon't yoou?" (AN this is my effecting his accents, I apologize if it's lousy.)  
  
Pansy looked between the two, taking in the bit of tension quickly. The younger man only looked at Tom for a moment before tossing a few sickles onto the bar. Justin's return was delayed, and deeply slurred, his glower unfocused. "Turnn downn pay'g cusss'mer's of'n?"  
  
Tom begrudgingly poured him another, albeit rather skimpy glass of whisky, and walked away to help other patrons. Slurping it down nosily, Justin was aware of Pansy's dark brown eyes on him as she sipped at her own drink. She didn't say anything else for a long while, which was a welcome relief, but he still wished she's just bugger off and leave him be. But that wasn't Pansy at all it seemed.  
  
"Drowning our sorrows today are we? I can see your not going to get anywhere on your own and I believe you've warn out your welcome with Tom there." She set down her empty wine glass with a clink, watching with pursed lips as Justin lapped up the dregs of his own drink. "Let's get you on your way then."  
  
She stood and pulled on his arm. Justin didn't budge, causing her to use a bit more force. Her strength was surprising. Perhaps because Justin wasn't in a right state, or perhaps she simply had a bit more going for her than many people realized, but Pansy eventually yanked Justin clumsily from his stool by sheer force and draped his cloak over his shoulder. Pushing his shoulders from behind, she managed to shove him out onto bustling Diagon Alley. They had gotten as far as the ice cream parlor, Pansy pushing Justin like a barrel full of fertilizer, before she stopped to look around.  
  
"Where on earth do you live anyway Finch-Fletchly?" She said angrily after a few moments of flustered silence. He didn't respond, instead leaning heavily against a nearby building, unwilling, or unable, to walk away from this harpy, yet wanting desperately for her to just leave him be.  
  
"Go on to your own flat Pansy. Can't you leave well enough alone?" He trailed off, eyes drooping shut momentarily. She was beside him in an instant, propping up the shoulder that had begun to slip dangerously downward.  
  
"That's right, Abnorm Alley. Get up then." Her tone was of obvious annoyance, and her face reflected as much. Why then, wouldn't she take a hint? She made their way in the same fashion as before, on down toward his street. Finally, upon seeing his building, Justin began to trudge forward on his own. Pansy, however, continued to follow.  
  
"Just sod off, will you!" He waved a hand behind himself angrily. But she didn't. When he reached the stop of the stairs, Justin swayed precariously, and Pansy pushed him quickly toward the door, finding it unexpectedly unlocked.  
  
Once inside, Justin stumbled toward the bed and fell heavily face down into the mattress. Pansy remained at the door in stunned silence, her wide eyes observed the empty disaster. It was only after some time that Justin realized she was still there, kneeling on the floor amongst his scattered papers. He peeped a heavy eye. She was snooping, but he didn't have the strength to holler at her anymore. Instead he watched drowsily as she gathered them up quietly and placed them in a pile on the corner table, even flattening the crumpled one on top of the rest, then quietly left.  
  
AN: The plethora of drinking in this fic was unintentional. It probably has something to do with the fact that I'm newly 21 and find myself with an evening drink nearly on a daily basis. At any rate, despite the fact that I never pictured my Justin as a heavy drinker, I feel that events did call for it in this case. Plus it's a handy meeting place, so blah. 


	7. Parkinson's Journal

January 21  
  
What a bloody day I've had! Every flat I went to see was rubbish, not one suitable. I'll end up on the muggle side for sure if this keeps up. Perhaps I can oust someone from a good place, you know… scare them off. Don't suppose that would be a very nice thing to do, but I think I'll take it into consideration anyhow.  
  
Course half way through my day I broke the heal off of my favorite pair of bat-skin boots. Madam Malkin said she'd see what she could do, but they'll simply never be the same. And then, to top all of that off I got my suede boots dirty later on, you'll never believe doing what.  
  
Justin Finch-Fletchley of all people, was pissed beyond recognition at the Cauldron. Tom wanted him gone, and it seemed to me that he was about to pass out anyhow. So I, being the good citizen that I hate to be, toddled him on home (getting my suede's muddy in the process). I can hardly believe myself that I recalled his street. It's stunning the inconsequential things I find myself recalling. I finally got the poor soddy bastard up there, only to find he'd been robbed blind. They took everything except some letters from his family. It was utterly wretched and depressing. I can hardly get my mind off it now, the letter and drawings. They were so real, and well … not much like anything I've ever been owled, that's for sure. Rotten luck, and he doesn't seem to be taking it well.  
  
I suppose this is the first time he's lost everything. Not that I've gone through it so many times myself. But I can't help but recall myself handling such things slightly better. It's been, what after all, five months since… that day. I'm doing alright aren't I. Have my affairs mostly in order. Sweet Salazar! I can't believe myself, but someone's going to have to help him. A Hufflepuff can never do this on his own, that's obvious. Leave it to a Slytherin of course.  
  
I'm already disgusted with myself. 


End file.
